


Eclipse

by ot_hoe_me (oz_cocoa)



Category: Stellamore (Visual Novel)
Genre: Also I SEE WHAT YOU'RE DOING WITH THE JACARANDA BEING ONE OF THEM, And now everyone else will too, Canon Speculation, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Thank you devs for telling us what Cipactli's favourite flowers are, fairytale, or this oneshot would not have been possible, so very fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 02:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oz_cocoa/pseuds/ot_hoe_me
Summary: Cipactli and the Oracle take a stroll around the gardens, and a question is asked that sparks the prince to tell her an old fairytale.(With some teeny-tiny canon speculation and wishful thinking thrown in at the beginning.)





	Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> Another Valentine's gift-fic, but this time to janellaamess on tumblr for the stellamore-secret-valentine event. This version is edited for mistakes made when written in an early-morning haze, and to take specific physical features and the name of her oracle out.

The thrill of the Empress’s words were still racing down the oracle’s spine even after she parted ways with Mukondi. 

“Fortunate that she desires peace, indeed.” she mused, absentmindedly rubbing her hands up and down her arms, attempting to rub warmth into her gooseflesh. But, however, aside from the awe and slight fear that Empress Mizquixaual inspired, the temperature had fallen with the sun that beckoned a cool evening breeze to accompany the dropping temperature. 

With a shiver, the young oracle fisted her cape in her hands to wrap around herself as she made her way to one of the palace balconies to refocus her senses and savour a moment of quiet. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and then exhaled before turning her gaze to the stars. As she stood there taking in the stillness that was such a stark contrast to the last twenty-four hours, she jumped when a voice called her name.

Flustered, the oracle whipped around towards the source of the voice, cape fluttering back down to her sides with the movement, only to come face-to-face with Crown Prince Cipactli.

Stepping back, she greeted him appropriately, before they got to the matter of why he had sought her out. Was he going to ask her why he had helped her sneak out of the palace earlier that day? Had he figured out what she was after seeing her faint the day before, and had put two and two together? They had been locking eyes when it had happened, after all. 

Was he going to try and interrogate her into what someone like her was doing here and jump to the worst conclusion? Was he going to drag her off to his mother? The possibilities ran rampant in her mind.

Though it turned out, by the end of the conversation, neither of those things happened, and it seemed like her secret was still safe. He asked her how her tour of the city was, and even teasingly – but keenly – asked her about her thoughts on the barrier. Though it caught her somewhat off guard she was careful not to give away too much, and in the end, she gave him his promised “souvenir” which was a loaf of some sort of cake-bread that smelled strongly of cinnamon. He had smiled and thanked her graciously, and taking his reaction as something out of mere politeness, she hurriedly explained that she didn’t want to bring back something that could easily lose it’s heat, or that she was likely to lose pieces of, and also that it smelled good. His smile stretched a little wider, and he thanked her for her thoughtfulness before bidding her a good rest and leaving her to her thoughts once more.

It felt a little warmer out there. She touched her cheek to be sure.

Their following interactions were fairly similar to their brief interaction in the garden. When he wasn’t busy conferring with the Empress or placating other delegates, he spent his time helping her sneak out of the castle, (or around it to avoid Dior and their cronies), and he even showed her around the royal library. He even sat down to help her with her research on the arcane magic that it is believed that the barrier is made of. Through all of this they became closer and then one day, of course, he was finally a witness to one of her visions, and with how intense it was; there was no explaining it away as anything else.

So she spoke her piece, no lies. And he listened. There was no judgment, no contempt or condemnation – only patience and kindness. And when her tale was done, he gently thumbed away her tears that had escaped without notice, looked into her eyes, slowly closed the distance between them, and kissed her.

It was the gentlest brush of lips, nearly a whisper, but it was done and there was no going back to how they were before.

They hadn’t spoken about it since it happened, but there was a new comfortable closeness between them nonetheless.

At the present moment, however, they were taking a walk through the royal gardens after a particularly heated session where two nations were arguing over a fair trade agreement such as what amount of which product would be sent, how many guards would accompany the caravans and other such things. Regardless, the meeting had adjourned for the day because they were talking themselves in circles and with role as a mediator done and a rare opening in Cipactli’s schedule, he asked the oracle to accompany him. And as it so happens, at the moment they were deep in discussion about various plants and flowers.

“…and as well as being used in a tonic to alleviate hiccups, marigolds used in conjunction with rayet cure paralysis in people who were struck by lightening.” Cipactli concluded his lecture.

“Only people who have been struck by lightning? It doesn’t work for people who have become paralyzed through other means?”

“No, however, the royal scientists are working on purely rayet-based solutions for curing paralysis in it’s other forms.”

The oracle hummed in thought, then another, much less scientific question waded its way to the forefront of her thoughts.

“Cipactli,” she forewent his title as he had made her promise to dispense it when they were alone or only among friends. “does your people have a flower language?”

Blinking in surprise, he turned to her in confusion. “Yes, we do. I assume yours do, also?”

“Yes, many flowers have meanings assigned to them back home, and just as we were talking it occurred to me that if others have a ‘language of flowers’ different cultures and peoples might not assign the same meaning to them.” 

She smiled.

“So, on the topic of marigolds, do they meaning anything in Huatzintepec?”

“Well aside from healing, they are strongly associated with the sun because of their golden colour, and they represent creativity and passion.” He glanced at his companion curiously. “Do your people say differently?”

Lowering her hand that had been covering her smile, the oracle explained. “Yes, actually, back home marigolds represent jealousy, resentment and cruelty.” A pause. “I am not sure why, though perhaps the person that came up with this interpretation of their meaning looked upon them, saw how bright they were, and was jealous themselves.”

“I see,” the prince observed. “of course while there is immense beauty to be found in viewing flowers, perhaps that person was ill at ease with themselves to become envious of a flower.”

During their musing, they arrived to the more secluded parts of the garden, and had made their way to the gazebo. It was the one with the hanging purple flowers surrounding it, where Cipactli had spied the oracle from when she was trying to sneak out to see the barrier that first time. She looked upwards at the fresco painted on the inside of the domed ceiling, while the prince sat gingerly on one of the benches admiring her form and curious expression.

He was snapped out of his stupor with another question.

“I have been meaning to ask, but what are the hanging purple flowers called?”

“Jacarandas,” he replied immediately. “I confess they are my favourites.”

“Really?” her expression brightened. “Do they have a special meaning too?”

He gestured with a hand for her to join him, and gingerly she took a place next to him. Haltingly, he began to explain, ears pointed slightly downwards…perhaps it was in nerves?

“They do. Among my people, there is a story about the jacaranda flower. More commonly known as the flower of wisdom, it is often gifted as a good luck charm to students of all sorts for their academic pursuits. However, it is lesser known as the Messenger’s flower, and among the older generation is gifted to a loved one who is going on a journey for a while to remind them of the love they share while wishing them a safe return. Thus, a lover’s flower, too.” He kept his voice steady throughout his explanation but was careful to keep his gaze to a fixed point in front of him.

The oracle kept silent, gauging whether he would continue – and was simultaneously relieved and left in suspense, tentative hope creeping into her heart when he chose to continue.

“The legend goes that a beautiful bird named Mitu came down to the earth from the heavens, bearing upon his back a beautiful woman. And in this story, as the only thing connecting the heavens and the earth, the bird landed upon the branch of a jacaranda tree. The woman, who after descending from Mitu’s back climbed the rest of the way down the tree herself, and this woman, in fact, was a priestess of the moon.” Here he paused meaningfully before continuing.

“The priestess lived among the village people that the jacaranda tree belonged to and she shared with them her knowledge of the cosmos, and of ethics, and of every thing that they would need to flourish. All of this with the only stipulation that they would spread her knowledge once she had taught them all that she knew. 

Once her task was done she had seen many moons and many, many sunrises but she felt in her spirit that she was not finished yet, so she went on a journey. She spent many more sunrises and moons upon the earth, gifting many people her wisdom, while all the while she learned from them too. The joys of their land which her love often spoke of when they could meet, and that she could never see for herself but neither could ever partake in before now. She would carry these stories and experiences with her back to her love who dearly missed her, but could now see her in the light of day as long she remained on earth. 

And yet, he did not find that he missed her less, now being able to see her each and every day. Instead he found himself yearning for her more fiercely. To take her into his arms- embrace her- and never let her go. Felt it with such intensity and longing he never had before. And so one day when clouds covered the sky, he left his post at the time he would least be missed and went in search of the bird Mitu to ask him to bear a message to his love from him.

“Please return to me as soon as you are able. Be safe. I miss you.”

And so Mitu bore this message and a sapling of a jacaranda tree until he found the priestess, and it was delivered.

Upon hearing the words of her beloved, she searched her spirit to see if she was ready to return. To see if she had done what she had set out to do – and found that she had. For she had promised all the peoples she had met that in exchange for her knowledge, that they would spread it once they had learned it and she was gone.

A fierce and sudden longing gripped her heart, and she knew it was finally time for her to return home. And so, she climbed upon Mitu’s back once more, and bid him return to the heavens with all haste. In their flight however, the jacaranda sapling slipped from her fingers back down to the earth below. With a cry, her overwhelming emotions spilled as the gift from her beloved tumbled from her grasp. It was the last push her heart needed for her tears to chase after it.

Swiftly, the bird flew across the world to return to the jacaranda tree from which she descended, but instead of making her climb all the way back to the heavens, Mitu took pity on her, and carried her where he would only seldom go.

Once she had returned to her home, she waited on the moon until it would finally pass between the earth and sun so she could meet her beloved again. When the time came, they ran into each other’s arms and she could finally tell him of all the wonders they had now both seen with their own eyes, but describe in detail all the things that he missed because he could not walk among them and experience those joys himself. But all the same, he rejoiced not only because she was back here with him – but because his love shone brighter than ever before.

All too soon, the moon started shifting from its position blocking the sun signalling that they would have to part once again. So the priestess used their remaining time to apologize for losing a gift her beloved gave her, and to ask a question.

“My love, did you see where the jacaranda sapling fell?”

Her love drew her into his embrace once again and pointed to the ground below where it had fallen. And much to her surprise, she saw another jacaranda tree. In the time that it had taken her to drop the sapling, return to the heavens, and reunite with her love, the sapling had grown and blossomed – which her love said had been nurtured with her tears. Then her eyes caught not just the one, but then many others which he explained that the peoples down below had taken parts of the jacaranda tree and spread them all over. The very same people she had taught nurtured the trees like she had them, and then watched them grow – as she had them. So it was that the jacaranda trees spread like her knowledge did.

Then the time finally came that they had to part until the next time that the moon passed between the sun and the ground below, and already they missed each other and looked forward to seeing the other again. And that,”

Cipactli finally turned to meet the oracle’s gaze, voice raw with emotion, and with how long he had been speaking. “is the story of the full meaning behind the jacaranda, and of the priestess of the moon and the son of the sun.”

The oracle rubbed her eyes. “Cipactli…that was beautiful.” she croaked, her voice thick with tears.

“It is,” he agreed softly. “it is no wonder why the older generation loves it so and keeps it close to their hearts. It is a shame that so many have forgotten it.”

A small smile. “Couldn’t you or your mother make a royal decree? ‘The Story of the Jacaranda is compulsory knowledge for all children, it is a staple of our culture!”

“Perhaps we should, after all it would not do to let this story be completely forgotten.” A breathy chuckle followed. “Did you know, that as a child I wanted more than anything to be the priestess? She knew many things, and travelled to many different places and even with all that, she still had a home to go back to at the end of it all.” he finished with not a small amount of wistfulness in his tone.

Without being aware of it, the two had gotten closer, the space between them much less than was acceptable in polite company. The oracle bridged the distance even further.

Heat pooling in her cheeks, she mustered her courage and placed a gentle hand against the prince’s cheek. A heartbeat later, when he did not pull away or make any other sign of displeasure she took a breathe and summoned the nerve she knew she possessed when confronting other nations, or solving the mystery of the barrier and spoke. She hoped she was not making a grave mistake.

“Cipactli,” she called him back to her. “you may be a Son of the Sun, and I may be a priestess that translates and relays the messages of the stars, but we are not unreachable.” 

Her other hand reached up to cup the other side of his face, and Cipactli’s eyes widened in wonder. 

“We, neither of us, are unreachable. We don’t need to wait for an eclipse or any other cosmic event to meet each other where we are. We are here. Right here together,” she whispered with ferocity. Even though there was no one else around them, the lowering of her pitch seemed only natural, for these words were only for the two of them.

“I am here. And I won’t leave you unless you wish me to.” she decided to take the final plunge and bare everything to him.

“I want to share everything with you, for the rest of my life, if you will have me.”

At this point, they had unconsciously drawn even closer together, their breaths intermingling, their noses and foreheads barely touching.

“Yes,” he croaked, his hot breath fanning her lips. “Stars, yes.”

He closed the rest of the distance, and the Son of the Sun took the Priestess of the Moon in his arms once more.

The stars witnessed the union of their messenger and the son of a god and hummed their approval.

They were content, they had found their happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you devs for telling us what Cipactli's favourite flowers are otherwise this would not have been possible. Also, I see EXACTLY what you're doing with the jacaranda being one of his favourites. The Amazonian myth behind it is too perfect for a Cipactli and Oracle relationship to be coincidental. I just...added on to what I saw. Just google "what do jacarandas mean in the language of flowers" and it's the second result under classroom.synonym.com
> 
> And if it turns out that it IS a coincidence and was not intentional at all? Well. That will be the first time I will have one-upped a writer for some of my favourite media. I highly doubt it's not intentional though. (Love you Willowish Studios!!)


End file.
